


Out of Control

by Aibohp



Series: Things Are Getting Weird [11]
Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, Copious Amounts of Crime, Dimension Travel, Hurt/Comfort, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-06-02 01:34:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6545089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aibohp/pseuds/Aibohp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Dipper and Morty were busy getting lost in the woods Rick, Stan, Mabel, and Pacifica lay low in another dimension where Stan and Rick stayed together... with a twist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Damn it, Rick!

**Author's Note:**

> To anyone who has been following this series: I am so sorry that I disappeared for so long. My friend's birthday was a week ago and after a couple days of drinking, getting tattoos, and some other not-so-legal party activities, I was kinda in a slump. BUT NOW I'M BACK BITCHES!

Mabel knelt in the passenger seat of her car, face practically pressed against the glass as she watched Stan and Pacifica confront the blonde’s parents. They’d been standing in their front door for a good ten minutes so far. The longer they stayed the more agitated and dramatic Stan’s hand motions were getting. Beside him Pacifica’s shoulders were slowly climbing up around her ears as the discomfort of the situation rose. It was painful to watch, really. Personally, Mabel didn’t see what the big deal was. It wasn’t like they were trying to convince them to let Pacifica live there again. She was probably better off at the shack anyway. They just wanted her stuff!. 

“Mm.. That--ughuurp--That doesn’t look good,” Rick pipped up from the back. He had been weirdly eager to come with them for reasons that he wouldn’t disclose. “I figured th-this wouldn’t work.” As he spoke, the Northwest’s front door slammed in Stan’s face, sending him and Pacifica slumping back toward the car. “Here kid. Put thi-is on!,” he said as the two approached, shoving a dark bundle of cloth into Mabel’s lap. 

“What’s this,” she asked as she crawled over the center console and settled behind the steering wheel while Pacifica sulkily poured herself into the passenger seat and Stan slid in beside Rick. 

“Sorry we didn’t get your stuff back, kiddo,” Stan said to Pacfica.” Meanwhile Mabel was wriggling out of her bright pink sweater and tugging on the black one that Rick had given her. “Try not to worry about it. We’ll go back to the shack and between the six of us, I’m sure we’ll think of a way to get it back.” 

“Wa--aaaugh--ay ahead of you, Stan,” Rick said, slapping the older man on the back. “Drive around the corner for me M-mabel,” he urged. In the rearview she could see Stan frown and cast a suspicious look at his old blue haired friend. 

“Okie dokie, artichokie,” Mabel said brightly as she started the car. Dimming her smile a little, she glanced at Pacifica and reached out to touch the girl’s arm. “You okay?” The only answer she received was a shrug and the brunette didn’t feel the need to push. 

“Rick, what are you planning,” Stan questioned in the back seat, frowning deeply as he glanced between the man next to him and his niece. Noticing her newly acquired sweater and Rick’s unusually dark attire. “If this is going where I think this might be going, I will push you out of this moving vehicle.” 

“D-don’t worry so much, Stan. Mabel you--you can stop here,” Rick said as he tugged on a pair of gloves. “Finish putting your shit on, M-Mabel, he demanded before looking at the man beside him. “So what’s going to happen, is M-mabel--Mabel and I are--urp--Ugh… We’re going to go--go and get Blondie’s shit.” He paused to take a swig from the flask he’d been carrying around since he stepped out of the shack in the morning. “And you--you--you’ll be here. All you have to do is drive away! Got it? Great! Come on M-M-Mabel,” he said, sliding out of the car and pulling a ski mask over his head all in one smooth movement. 

For a moment, Mabel found herself frozen in her seat. About the same time she realized the beanie in her lap wasn’t exactly what it appeared, she’d started putting together how Rick intended to get Pacifica’s stuff back. She was still a little stunned. The spindly old man rapped on her window harshly and jerked a thumb over his shoulder motioning for her to get out when she looked up at him. Blinking, her face broke into a huge grin. With a giggle, she yanked her ski mask over her head and shoved her hair down the back of the sweater she’d been given. 

“Woah, woah, woah! Get back in the car, Mabel! You are not going burgling with Rick,” Stan shouted as his niece bounced out of the car. 

“Oh wait,” she gasped, ignoring her Grunkle and leaning down to pop her trunk. “Your room is upstairs right,” she asked Pacifica who just nodded slowly, looking like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “Sweeet! This sounds like a job fooooooor…” she ran around to the back of the car and lean in to grab something, “GRAPPLING HOOK!” 

“Good job M-Mabel. Always good to be prepared,” Rick commented, patting the girl on the back. “Alright! Let’s get this--this show on the road!” He said, handing Mabel a plain, black bookbag and heading for the backyard of the house they’d parked in front of. “We-we’re going to cut through th-the backyard and go straight for y-your girl’s window. Focus on clothes.” 

“Wait! You two get back here!” Stan demanded, stomping up to Rick and snatching the skinny man back by his arm. “Just what do you think you’re doing taking her to break into someone’s house?! And why are you so okay with it,” he asked frantically, having expected Mabel to have a more solid moral compass. 

“Oh Grunkle Stan, I learned a long time ago that morals are ambiguous. What Pacifica’s parents are doing is wrong. I’m just doing a bad thing for good reasons,” Mabel justified, sweetly as she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. 

“Sh-she’s right and besides, it--it’s not like this is a big deal,” Rick pointed out, earning himself an incredulous look from the other man. “Wh-what?! We-we-we’re stealing a teenage girl’s clothes, in the suburbs! It-it’s not--It’s not like we’re breaking into a research facility in New Mexico! Besides i-it’s a good life skill to have. Admit it! Knowing this sort of sh-shit has come in handy plenty of times!” He jerked out of Stan’s grip and crossed his arms over his chest. “Wh-what?! You th-think I can’t rob th-these bitches blind?! I-I-I don’t even need _her_ ,” he snapped, pointing sharply at Mabel. “But I-I figure that it--it’s her girlfriend! Sh-she should do some of the work!” 

“RICK! She is _not_ my girlfriend! Yet… We’re talking about it. Shouldn’t we go before someone notices us,” Mabel protested, hedging a little closer to the fenced in backyard while Stan huffed and puffed. 

“I WANT TO KEEP ARGUING ABOUT THIS BUT YOU BOTH KEEP BRINGING UP GOOD POINTS THAT I KIND OF AGREE WITH,” the man exploded, making Rick roll his eyes. 

“Oh my god. Just get--uur--get in the car and be ready to roll when we get back,” the blue haired man snapped, shoving at his old partner in crime and following the young woman he had just recruited. 

They moved in relative silence, picking their way through empty yards, of which there were surprisingly many. To Mabel it seemed almost strange, how few people were taking advantage of the warm weather. She supposed that some people were more appreciative of their air conditioners than a water balloon to the face. Besides, it played to their advantage that almost everyone was cooped up indoors. It left them able to reach the Northwest house with miraculous speed. Before too long they were skulking around their backyard, Rick peeking through the downstairs windows while Mabel tried to single out Pacifica’s bedroom. 

“Target acquired,” Mabel said with a grin as she saw a window with purple curtains that didn’t match any of the other drapes she’d spied thus far. It was also the only one without a screen. Someone liked to sneak out of the house. 

“Good jo-ooo-b” Rick belched. He looked at her with a manic smile and slapped her on the back. “Let’s get this sh--show on the road! You-you know how to use that grappling hook?” His voice held a tinge of amused skepticism. With a huff Mabel turned and stuck her tongue out at him. 

“Oh ye of little faith. Just watch this shit,” she giggled, lifting her hand she fired the grappling hook at the window. It crashed through the lower pane with a satisfying crack. She hardly had time to wrap an arm around the old man’s waist before she was jerked off her feet. The trip up to the window wasn’t nearly as speedy as it had been when she first got the thing, but it got the job done. 

“Heh well look at th-aaa-t. You--you’re not a complete disappointment,” Rick said, as he jammed his hand into his pocket and produced a rock about the size of his palm. It certainly wasn’t the high tech object that she was expecting. 

It certainly got the job done, though. Without even a moment’s hesitation he smashed the rest of the window and once the panes were gone the thin pieces of wood that had held them in place gave away easily. He crawled in first, heedless of the broken glass stabbing up from the bottom of the window’s frame. Rick must not have expected Mabel to care about it, either since he offered zero help in getting her through the window after him. Instead he went straight for the closet and started snatching clothes off hangers, shoving them into his backpack. 

“Thanks for the help,” Mabel muttered as she struggled through the window, trying hard not to scrape herself up too bad on the broken glass. However, she could feel at least a few wounds that would line her stomach and arms after they left. 

“Sh-shut up! Start grabbing shit,” Rick commanded, and rather than fight about it, she hurried to Pacifica’s dresser and started yanking open the drawers. It wasn’t like hurrying was a bad idea. Despite how quickly she’d taken to the idea and how confident her partner in crime was, Mabel’s nerves were starting to catch up with her.

*******

Stan grumbled as he waited in the car, settled in the driver’s seat and glaring through the windshield as he drummed his fingers on the wheel. Pacifica was silent next to him, legs drawn up and hugged to her chest. Her face was nestled in the valley of her knees. It looked as though she wanted to shrink away until she disappeared. Stan felt bad for her, really. The conditions under which he’d been evicted from his family home had been different. For instance he’d had a car, had been allowed to get his clothes. They hadn’t done it because he was gay. But he understood being unwanted by those who were meant to love him unconditionally. He knew what it was like to feel as though there was nowhere to go.

“Hey, don’t look so down,” he insisted, earning a sad, blue gaze. “Sure you got kicked out of the house by your parents. At least you’re not alone! And maybe they wouldn’t let you go get your stuff, but you’re definitely getting some of it back. I might not like it but Rick wasn’t wrong about how proficient a thief he is. Just wish he wasn’t dragging Mabel into it.” And just like that, the older man was right back where he’d started, sulking about the position his friend had put his niece in. 

“Why are they doing this for me, though,” Pacifica asked suddenly, breaking the self imposed silence she had held since Mabel and Rick left. “Just… Why?! I’m not… I don’t… I’m such a bitch! I’ve always been so mean to Mabel! That Rick guy doesn’t even know me!” She groaned and let her legs fall as she lifted her hands to cover her face. “I don’t care about him but her taking risks for me… makes me feel bad.” 

Stan snorted quietly. In his time knowing the blonde brat, he had noticed that she was, indeed, one of the snobbiest people he knew. Really, she was only a couple steps below Gideon on the ‘Annoying Little Shits’ scale. It seemed like the bitchy little ice-queen had some feelings after all, though. With a sigh, he reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Mabel’s a good kid with a big heart. If she cares about someone she doesn’t mind bending the rules to help them out. Rick is just…. Well he’s an asshole,” he wrinkled his nose. It felt weird cussing in front of a kid. “He doesn’t care about a lot but when he does decide to give a shit, he goes whole hog, even if he doesn’t always do it well. Besides, this sort of stuff hits a sore spot with him.” 

“Why,” Pacifica asked, confused. Stan glanced at the girl and caught her staring at him. It was awkward but at least she wasn’t sulking like before. 

“His parents reacted more like yours and less like Mabel’s when they found out that Rick’s preferences weren’t only for women,” he admitted. It was a little satisfying when the blonde’s eyes got wide, but much to his dismay she looked like she was going to start asking more questions that weren’t his to answer. Thankfully, a police car sped by, siren blazing and interrupted their Q&A. Which, on second thought wasn’t good at all… “Shit!” 

Stan cranked up the car, and sped off. He was probably being a little too lead footed as he took off, but it was really hard to care in that moment. The houses flew by in a blur as he drove around the block. Pacifica was screaming from the passenger seat about him going the wrong way, but he could barely hear her through the rush of blood in his ears. Stan was riding a familiar high on the wave of adrenaline flooding his system. When he finished the circuit around the island of houses, they ended up down the street from where the police had parked in front of Pacifica’s house. 

The first person to come stumbling out wasn’t Rick or Mabel, but Mr. Northwest, himself. He was followed by his wife and then Rick, who was holding onto Mrs. Northwest and pressing a gun to her head. Because of course, of course he would have a gun. Mabel brought up the very rear of the group. Stan felt his eye twitch and Pacifica’s screams got louder. 

“Stop screaming! He isn’t going to kill your mom,” Stan growled, reaching across the girl and throwing open the car door. “Get in the back and open the door,” he ordered, watching tensely as Rick looked around, and spotted them. His grin showed insanely through the mask he wore. 

“Release your hostage, drop your weapon and put your hands above your head,” Officer Blubs shouted, unable to see Mabel behind the three adults as she slipped a hand into the front pocket of the backpack Rick carried. Time, which had seemed to grind to a near halt, suddenly sped up. It was almost like someone was holding down a fast-forward button. 

Rick moved, and though it looked like he was about to drop his gun, he didn’t. Instead he simply leaned forward, allowing Mabel to throw something over his head that landed between the Northwests and the police. As soon as it hit the ground smoke started to billow and lights began flashing. Rick started running and snatched Mabel along with him. The two of the dove into the open car doors and before there was even a moment close them, Stan was speeding off. 

“What the hell was that, Rick,” Stan shouted glaring at the man in the passenger seat as he cackled wildly. “How the fuck did a quick little in-n-out operation turn into a hostage situation!? Why do you even have that thing,” he asked accusingly as they tore out of the neighborhood.

“Relax! It’s--it’s not even real,” Rick protested, pointing the weapon at Stan’s head and pulling the trigger. A jet of water splashed against the other man’s face. 

“What,” both mabel and Pacifica shouted from the back seat. Behind the wheel, Stan’s eye started to twitch. Rick just snorted indignantly, as if he didn’t think anyone had cause to be mad at him in the first place, and then belched. 

“You--you can kill me later. We--we’ve got company,” he huffed, shrugging off his backpack and tossing it into the back seat. “M-Mabel, lemme see your--your--your phone,” the old man stuttered, holding out a boney hand expectantly. Sirens lit up behind them as the girl reluctantly handed over her phone. Rick fiddled with it for a moment then held it to his ear, cursed, and repeated the process a few more times before someone finally picked up.“W-what the fuck took you so long? Fuck it. Doesn’t m-matter. We’re skipping town for a few days,” Rick barked as he rolled down the passenger-side window. “Things got a little out of hand w-when we got Blondie’s stuff.” 

“What do you mean you’re skipping town for a few days! How did things get out of hand!?” Ford’s voice shouted. His voice sounded tiny when coming through the speaker of Mabel’s phone. Anything else he might have said was lost as Rick boosted himself up to sit in the window of the car. The vehicle swerved as Stan’s hand jerked out and caught hold of the other man’s belt. 

“Don’t--Don’t worry about it. W-we’ll tell you about it later. Stan, fuu-ugh--fucking keep the car steady. You used to be a lot better at this,” Rick shouted, yanking his portal gun out of one of his many, mysterious pockets. 

“YOU KEEP THE CAR STEADY YOU--YOU FUCKING BAG OF ASSHOLES,” Stan shouted, finally losing the battle not to swear in front of the kids. They were old enough to handle it anyway. 

“I-I’ll call you when w-we get back into town,” the blue haired old man continued, acting as if Stan hadn’t even spoken. He tossed Mabel’s phone back into the car and grinned. “Y-you guys ready for this,” he cackled, not waiting for an answer before firing his portal gun. A swirling pool of green appeared in the middle of the road. Much to Rick’s approval, Stan didn’t even slow down as they approached it.


	2. Well Fuck You, Too

Everyone screamed as they fell through the portal, save for Rick. The sensation of falling, being suspended in mid air, and then right back on the four wheels they started on was disorienting to say the least. As soon as they were back on the street Stan slammed on the breaks, panting as he stared at an unfamiliar road. Houses lined either side of it, little rundown boxes with small yards, half of which were surrounded by chain link fences. Abandoned children’s toys lay scattered through some of lawns. A few of which, scarcely had any grass. Where there weren’t evidence of children, there were dogs, yapping and snarling from behind their fences. From where they sat in the middle of the road, Stan could see at least one house whose owner had tried to spruce things up. Their yard, while petite, was filled with life, flower beds along the edge of their property, elephant ears in front of the stoop, and plants in baskets and pots settled into all its nooks and crannies. Still, in the evening light, everything looked somewhat dreary.

“What the…” Stan started, leaning forward to look up at the sky. In Gravity Falls, it had been mid day at the latest. Here it looked as though the sun was already setting. 

“Where the fuck are we,” Pacifica snapped, voicing the most prominent thought circling through Stan’s mind. In the back seat she and Mabel were clinging to each other, eyes huge. Where the fear was starting to leave Mabel’s in favor of curiosity, rage danced in Pacifica’s. 

“W-we’re--uuurp--we’re in dimension X-2137. Just drive down the--the block. Y-you’re looking for house 114,” Rick explained, leaning up to open the glove compartment and pull out a flask, this one different than the one that Mabel had seen him with earlier. 

“When did you stash that in my car,” the girl accused as they rolled forward, crawling past house after house. A few people sitting on their front porches gave them curious looks, leaning in to whisper to each other. 

“Don’t worry about it,” the skinny old coot replied, taking a swig of his newly acquired drink. Mabel threw herself back against the back seat with a huff. Fun as Rick could be sometimes, he was also infuriating.

As they crawled past house after house, Stan couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something terribly out of place about where they were. So far things had seemed normal enough. Everyone looked like they were human. There was only one sun in the sky, even if it wasn’t where he thought it should be. It was just your average, everyday neighborhood. Maybe it looked like it could be a little shady but really it wasn’t that bad. Maybe it was just that they were in a different dimension that had him all paranoid.

“Are we even in Oregon anymore,” he groused, cutting his eyes at Rick who shook his head and recapped his flask. “And why is everyone staring at us?” His grip tightened on the wheel, agitated. 

“W-we are not,” Rick confirmed, staring out the window and watching the house numbers go down. “We’re in South Carolina. Don’t ask m-me why. I-I-I can think of way better places to live.” The man’s hand flew out to slap against Stan’s arm as they approached one of the boxy little houses. From the looks of the peeling paint, it had once been white but was currently a dingy looking grey. “And th-they’re staring because of the car.” 

“The car,” Mabel asked from the back, watching as Rick hauled his lanky ass out of the car but not yet wishing to get out herself. She heard him fiddling with something on the roof of the car. 

“Y-yeah, the car. Th-this dimension's timeline is a good--uuurp--good thirty or so years behind ours.” They--They haven’t seen anything like this shit,” he laughed, dropping a thin metal box on top of the car and pressing a button that was in the middle of it. A grid like pattern started to stretch across the entire vehicle, the thin green lines emanating from the box. Once they had encased the car completely, it’s surfaces started to shimmer and blur, until it looked nothing like itself. The little blue Honda had been, at least on the outside, transformed into a big, black Pontiac Phoenix. “Are y-you guys going to get th-the fuck out or what?” 

As everyone reluctantly piled out of the car, Rick marched toward the front of the house. He skirted around a dark red car that, aside from a few dents in the side of it looked to be in decent condition. Stan could finally tell what it was that had seemed so off. All the cars were from the seventies and the one that was sitting in house 114’s driveway was more than a little familiar. He stared at it for a moment while Rick hopped the homeowner’s fence and started pounding on their door. Surely that wasn’t the car he thought it was. Glancing at the yard he saw a child’s bicycle, evidence that a kid lived in the house. There was no way that Ford LTD II was the one he was thinking of. Not a chance in hell. 

“Come on, girls,” he sighed, squaring himself up and following Rick’s path toward the house, though he used the gate rather than hopping the fence. Stan had no idea how his old friend had stayed so nimble. 

Once they reached the door, with Mabel and Pacfica hovering behind the two old men with their hands clasped together, the door finally swung open to reveal…. Stan. Or _a_ Stan. He was at least thirty years younger than the one on his doorstep and looked just as, if not more confused than older version who was staring at himself, dumbstruck. From inside the house there was someone yelling indistinctly, possibly in Spanish. 

“Holy shit,” the younger Stan said before anyone else could break the silence as he eyed the motley crew. “Uh… I think I should just…” he leaned further away from the door. “RIKKI,” he shouted, never taking his eyes off them. 

“WHAT,” came an irritated, female voice from somewhere inside. It hadn’t been hard to guess that where there was a Stan there was going to be a Rick. The fact that this Rick turned out to be a woman was a little more surprising. “I-I’M TRYING TO DEAL WITH--WITH A SITUATION HERE!” 

“WELL SO AM I,” Stan barked back, glancing over his shoulder and then quickly back at their guests. Rick seemed amused by the whole thing. “WE HAVE SOME _COMPANY_.”

“WH-WHAT KIND OF COMPANY,” the woman called again after a tense pause. Her voice sounded closer than it had the first time, more cautious too. 

“THE DOPPELGANGER KIND,” Stan replied, peering over Rick and the old Stan’s shoulders at the girls they’d brought with them. “PLUS TWO I’VE NEVER SEEN BEFORE!” Everything quiet, save for a set of loud, advancing footsteps. 

It shouldn’t have been a surprise how much like Rick Rikki looked. After all they were apparently the same person, save for the obvious difference in gender. Beyond that, the inconsistencies were few. She looked like a slightly (very, very slightly) softer version of Rick when he was her age. Stan felt himself choke up a little as he defensively crossed his arms over his chest and pressed his lips into a thin line. Rikki had the same sharp features, though her chin came to more of a point and her nose wasn’t quite as big; though it retained the same shape as Rick’s. Her skin was the same olive tone and wrapped around a body that was equally angular, if a bit less skinny. Most striking, however, were her eyes. Honey-gold-brown, and sizzling with a fire that seemed to have long since dimmed in the older versions eyes. 

“Rikki! Heeeey! It--it’s great seeing you again! It’s--uuurp--been way, way too long! Stan! Y-you’re growing one sweet mullet, th-there. So I-I have a favor to ask. Um.. W-we’re in a spot of trouble in our dimension and I-I-I was thinking where better to go and hide out from th-the cops than good old dimension X-2137?!” Rick rambled, making the young Stan snort and even the stern-faced Ricky’s lips twitched like she wanted to smile. 

“M-Maybe you get to stay,” Rikki finally said, lifting a hand that was clasped around something that looked almost like a bar-code reader. “Turn around,” she said, twirling the thing around in a circle. “I-I’m going to check you, and then tag th-the rest of your little friends if I decide to let you stay.” The woman explained making Rick roll his eyes while she pressed the device in her hand against the back of his neck. 

“You’re tagging us,” Pacifica asked haughtily, shaking Mabel loose and crossing her arms over her chest. Rikki flicked her eyes up to her and arched a brow. “Why?” 

“It-it’s for both security and migration purposes,” Rikki said, smiling as the thing in her hand pinged. Apparently Rick checked out because she slapped him on the back and ushered him into the house. “I like to keep track of the transdimensional visitors I get. As she roughly spun Stan around and pressed the device to his neck she snorted. “Are y-you guys a little old to be adopting kids?” 

“What,” Stan yelped, flinching as the woman pulled a trigger on her scanner, inserting her tracking tag into the back of his neck. “They aren’t ours! This is my niece, Mabel and her… girlfriend?” 

“My name is Pacifica, and you’re not tagging me like some animal,” she protested, fiercely. Beside her, Mabel had gone unusually quiet but allowed herself to be spun around and tagged, just like her uncle. 

“Th-then you’re sleeping outside, kid,” Rikki replied, patting Mabel on the back with surprising gentleness as she nodded for her to go inside. “So what--what’s it gonna be? The tag or th-the dog house?” The two stared at each other, Pacifica glaring and the older woman just grinning meanly at the younger girl. It seemed to take forever but the blonde finally spun around with a huff. “Th-that’s what I thought,” Rikki hummed as she tagged the girl and shoved her inside. “Lee, prop th-them up somewhere while I-I deal with Estaban. Next time we-we-we’re using my guys. Y-yours are unreliable!” 

The living room they were crammed into was small and separated from the kitchen by only a breakfast bar. There was a couch shoved up against the wall and that was about it by the way of furniture, save for three bar stools; one of which didn’t look like it was meant to be moved with milk crate and stack of phone books propping it up where a missing leg should have been. A threadbare, brown blanket was tacked up over the window, leaving the light in the kitchen and the fuzzy-pictured TV across from the couch as the only light sources. The only place the dismal little hole in the wall was missing was an over abundance of beer bottles scattered around. In lieu of those, there were ashtrays everywhere.However, judging from the underlying scent of weed, and the little dishes stuffed full of ash and incense sticks, it wasn’t cigarettes they were smoking. 

“Estaban isn’t that bad a guy,” Lee, the younger Stan, tried to say as he stepped out of his lover’s warpath. She just snorted at him as she ducked into the kitchen. On the far wall, by the back door, the phone cord could be seen, bobbing lazily as it hung from the receiver on the wall. 

“He’s not a bad guy, just a sh-shitty smuggler,” Rikki snapped, as she bent down to pick up the phone, presumably from where she’d left it hanging. Everyone, including Rick, was shocked when she didn’t just come back up with the phone but a young, curly haired toddler clutched in her arms. 

“What--what is that,” Rick asked from where he’d plopped on the couch with Stan sitting in the opposite corner. Mabel had perched on one of the intact barstools and Pacifica joined her. Despite the wee one being around for her to potentially coo over, she just let her head drop onto the blonde girl’s shoulder. 

“Th-this is Roland,” Rikki said shortly, narrowing her eyes at Lee when he rolled his. “D-don’t give me th-that look! Y-you wanted to name him W-wilbur!” With a snort, she worked the phone out of the youngster’s chubby hand and pressed it to her ear. “I-I’m back. Now put me on the phone with th-the fucking Russians… I know th-this wasn’t meant to happen, dipshit!” 

“So th-that’s why y-you two are still together? You knocked her up,” Rick said, lip curling slightly as the spoke. Both Stan and Lee send the old man a dirty look at his tone. With how lovingly he spoke of Beth it seemed a little odd that he would be so displeased by this alternate version of himself having their own baby. 

“That’s probably part of it but personally, I put most of the blame on whatever chat she had with Birdperson before he and Squanchy took off,” Lee said, grinning dumbly as Roland reached up to grab for his nose. “But I’m sure my stunning good looks and undeniable charm had something to do with it too. I mean really, how could she not fall in love with handsome mug like this,” he chuckled. 

There was a lull in the conversation being held on the kitchen phone and a roll of paper towels came sailing through the air to peg Lee in the side of the head. Everyone turned their heads to Rikki, who had switched from Spanish to Russian. She spun around, showing her back to everyone has they looked at her but it wasn’t hard to catch the redness that had bloomed in her cheeks and ears. Lee’s grin just got bigger and his chuckle turned into a full blown laugh. Seeing how happy they were made something deep the pit of Stan’s chest ache. 

“Now get y-your ass back state-side, and bring me m-my shit,” Rikki barked, breaking into what had been building up into a tense silence, as she slammed the phone down. Blowing a harsh breath through her nose, she raked her fingers through her hair. Her roots stood out darkly against the fading blue and it was in just as much disarray as her elder counterpart. Constantly raking her fingers through the chin-length strands had, for the most part, trained her hair to lay back and away from her face. But there were still errant cow licks and curls that had a mind of their own. 

“Mama,” Roland burbled around his fist, reaching a pudgy hand toward the woman. Her face lit up like the sun, something that Stan had only seen his Rick’s face do a handful of times. It was absolutely beautiful. Lee couldn’t help staring at her with the sappiest expression as she came and scooped the youngster out of his arms. However when she noticed, she scowled. 

“W-what are you lookin’ at,” she snapped defensively, smoothing a hand over Roland’s back. The child’s face instantly tucked into her neck and the hand he didn’t insist upon sucking wrapped itself up in her hair. Lee just shook his head. 

“Nothin,” he said, grinning like a loon. He seemed so happy and as Stan sulked on the couch, he couldn't help feeling a little cheated. Even when Rikki huffed and shoved Lee’s shoulder, and started herding him toward the kitchen. 

“Weird-ass,” Rikki muttered as she went to sit on Mabel’s other side. The barstool rested close enough for her to reach the couch with her feet. “So,” she started, using a foot to shove Rick out of her way so she could put her feet on the couch's arm that he’d been occupying. “Lucky for y-you fucksticks, we--we went shopping earlier. So you get to eat,” the woman said while behind her, Stan was pulling pot out of cabinets and getting ready to start cooking. 

“God, thi-this is so domestic I-I think I might puke,” Rick sneered, earning a dark look from Stan and a diversive snort from Rikki. “Th-this is what you’re doing with-uuurgh--with your life? Wh-What so you--you just run around changing fucking diapers and scrubbing crayon off th-the walls until it’s time for y-your Stan gets home from selling whatever bullshit product he’s pushing? Do you--you guys take turns m-m-making dinner so th-that you can huddle up in your little rat hole and eat together like a fuuuuuughcking family?!” Stan elbowed the skinny old man in the ribs but Rick just grunted and shoved himself up off the couch. “You--you--you’re just playing house while there’s a fucking war going on!” 

Roland whimpered as Rick’s voice rose with his irritation. His mother shushed him softly, nuzzling the top of the little one’s head as she watched her male doppelganger. Her eyes seemed cool, assessing, but from his place on the couch, Stan could see a muscle in her jaw jumping. When she lifted her face from her son’s curls she was smiling, lips stretched into a thin, cruel smile. She slid off the bar stool she’d perched on, pausing only to deposit her offspring on the couch before she stepped up to Rick who glared at her from under his furrowed brow. What Rikki lacked in height, in comparison to the man in front of her, she made up for in presence. Even in her too-big black shirt, covered in bleach stains, and her baggy jeans, she emitted a fearsomeness. 

“You--You know what I think old man? I-I-I think that--that you’re just fucking pissed that you didn’t make the same choice,” Rikki said, crossing her arms over her modest chest. “I th-think that you regret talking y-yourself into ‘sacrificing yourself for the greater good’,” she curled her lip and lifted a hand, to jab a narrow finger into Rick’s boney chest. “You’re pissed because you--you could have had everything you ever wanted and you gave it up.” Pressing the digit into his chest and giving him a little shove she bore her teeth. “Not only that but you--you don’t th-think you got what you paid for.” 

Rick ground his teeth, glaring down at the woman for what seemed like forever before shoving her out of his way and storming toward the back door. The whole time Lee didn’t bother to look up from whatever he was doing at the stove. Even as Rick nearly walked into him when he swerved to yank a bottle of liquor off the top of their fridge before slamming out of the house. Rikki huffed, dropping down on the far end of the couch and lifting a hand to scrub over her face while Roland crawled into her lap. The silence left in his absence was clouded with tension and stretched on, punctuated by the muttering of the TV and clanks and bangs from the kitchen. It was only truly broken when. Lee moved a stack of mix and matched plates onto the breakfast bar with a clatter. 

“Who want’s hamburger helper and broccoli,” he bellowed with slightly forced cheer. “Guaranteed to be made with ground meat that is mostly beef and almost entirely unburned by your chef,” he rattled on, grinning with a little more sincerity as Mabel lifted her head from Pacifica’s shoulder and gave the man a little smile. Silly as Lee sounded, it was doing the job. Even Rikki’s lips were twitching. “Come on! Grab a plate and enjoy some of your perfectly cooked broccoli that is definitely not really mushy at the bottom of the pot and only half cooked at the top!” 

Mabel giggled first, then Rikki, which spurred her son into laughing joyously and bouncing himself on her legs. Pacifica managed a smile at least. Slowly, the women started migrating toward the kitchen. First the girls, and then Rikki, who Lee already had a plate ready for. Roland got settled in a highchair with his own little plate that he immediately smashed his hands into with a shrill laugh. Stan watched from the couch as everyone found their places, Mabel and Pacifica at the bar, Lee propped up by the stove and Riki had dragged herself a stool over so she could sit by Roland and try to content on making. Deep in his chest, Stan’s heart ached.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long to get out. I may have bitten off a little more than I could comfortably chew with all the characters running around in here. So I had to stop and actually think about how I was going to be writing the next chapters before I could finish this one.


	3. The Real Deal 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mabel struggles with what is and isn't real. Stan gets harassed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI! Sorry I've been gone so long. A combination of writer's block and not having internet access because I was house-sitting will screw things up. Now this chapter has been split up into two parts because I realized as I was writing it that it was going to end up being ridiculously long. Also it would've taken way longer for me to update if i tried to work everything into this one chapter. It just wasn't happening. So if the ending feels a little abrupt then please bear with me.

Dinner was everything that Lee had promised it wouldn’t be but it was still good. After they’d eaten, he and Rikki set to work on the task of making sure everyone would have somewhere to lay their heads once the desire to sleep crept up on them. Just because it was nearing 9 o’clock at night for dimension X-2137, it didn’t mean that their visitors hadn’t woken up no more than four or five hours ago. It seemed like such a ridiculous measurement of time, both too short and too long for all they’d seen and done so far that day. Still, everyone would eventually need a place to sleep. So while Lee was getting Roland ready for bed, Rikki was shoving his crib into their bedroom and setting up a little fold-out cot that barely looked like it would hold one of the girls much-less both of them. 

“Trust m-me,” Rikki said, leaning against the door of her son’s bedroom with Mabel and Pacfica at her side. “If you just put in enough effort you--you can fit two people on that thing,” she assured with a grin that was far more friendly than the ones they’d seen earlier. 

Still, Pacfica curled her lip slightly in distaste for their sleeping arrangements. 

“Fitting two people on those things is why we only have one of them now, Rikki,” Lee said as he brushed past with a towel clad two year old in his arms. His lover snorted and rolled her eyes at his negativity. 

“No, Lee, fucking on th-those things is why we only have one now,” she insisted, leaning out into the short hallway so she could call after him. “If y-you could have kept your hands to yourself it would have held up just fine!” Mabel and Pacifica exchanged a slightly uncomfortable look. 

“I couldn't help it! I was pinned under a beautiful, hyper-intelligent, space-traveling criminal! What else was I supposed to do,” Lee insisted teasingly, making Rikki’s face go so red that no one would have batted an eye if her whole head just exploded. Watching from their bedroom as he got Roland dressed for bed, Lee grinned. There was little he enjoyed more than seeing his lady love blush.

“Sh-shut the fuck up and put Roland to bed,” Rikki stuttered, indignantly before returning her attention to the girls. “If you don't feel like sharing or can’t control y-your teenage hormones long enough to keep from breaking our cot, you can steal th-the couch cushions and m-make a nest on the floor,” she offered with a shrug. It had already been decided that Stan and Rick would have to deal with the fold-out couch so it wasn't like the cushions would be missed. 

“Thank you Rikki,” Mabel said quietly, stepping into the small room, and looking around. The walls and even the ceiling were painted a sky blue Unlike the rest of the house, it seemed as though tremendous care had been put into the small space. Even if all the furniture inside had been salvaged and miss matched. There were surprisingly cheerful murals of clouds and birds and a light fixture that looked like a miniature sun, radiating light from center of the ceiling. 

“You--you know you don’t have to go to bed just because I showed you the room, right?,” Rikki mentioned with a little frown, even as Pacifica followed the brunette into the rom and dropped down on the cot. At some point Stan had gone, grabbed her bags and deposited them in the corner of the room. 

“I know,” Mabel assured, biting her lip as she carefully sat on the other side of the little cot. “I just um…” she struggled, to find her words.

All she wanted was to be alone for a while. Her day was _not_ going the way she planned, at all. With all the excitement and unexpected turns that things had taken, everything felt a little surreal in a way that made her question if it was real at all. Panic spiked in her for a moment and she clenched her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms. She didn’t know how much longer she could hold things together to be honest. Dipper wasn’t there to assure her everything was real. Her stars weren’t there. Sure they would be outside, probbaly, but then there was Rick to deal with. Taking a deep breath she went to speak again when Pacifica butted in.

“Listen Rikki, no offense or anything. You seem cool but I think she just wants to be left alone,” she said, haughty as ever. The girl subtly slid her hand across the narrow expanse of the cot and spread her fingers over Mabel’s hand. “Things have been really weird today.” 

“Fair enough,” the older woman shrugged, taking hold of the door and pulling it most of the closed as she stepped out of the doorway. “If you--you need something I expect you can figure it out on your own. I-I doubt you’re complete morons,” she said as she left, slapping the light off before she closed the door completely. 

“Oh wow,” gasped Mabel, distracting Pacifica from snarling at the door. She looked first at the brunette’s wide eyed stare, and then the walls that had taken her attention. For a moment, she couldn't believe her eyes.

The blonde had been a little annoyed to have the lights turned off on them like that. It wasn't like they were parrots. They couldn't just be shut up in a dark room and expected to sleep. Only it wasn't dark. The warm yellow light from before had simply changed to something cooler; a silver-blue that mimicked the moon. It seemed to transform the entire room. The light blue paint had taken on a dark, velvety appearance and the birds seemed to dissolve into pure, white light, scattering across the walls and ceiling. The little scattering pinpricks copied the positions of the stars overhead. All of it took mabel’s breath away. 

“Am I tripping,” Pacifica asked, standing up from the cot and picking her way across the toy covered floor to look at the wall. It looked normal. She lifted a hand and touched the paint. To her confusion it felt oh so slightly soft almost like a fuzzy Lisa Frank sticker. “What the hell?”

“I don't know,” Mabel breathed, biting her lip as she laid back on the cot. She studied the stars twinkling across the ceiling and curled her fingers into the front of her sweater. The constellations were a comfort… but also a concern. She didn't want this surreal feeling to become comfortable. “Hey Pacifica, is this real?”

Pacifica spun around at the terribly meek question. Her friend?...girlfriend?... Her Mabel was staring up at the ceiling like she was about to burst into tears. The girl’s chest rose in slow, purposefully even breaths. It was almost painful, watching how hard she was trying to hold her shit together. Carefully, the blonde crept back across the room and settled on the edge of the cot. It creaked under her weight but held firm. She placed a gentle hand on Mabel’s side. 

“Hey are you okay,” asked Pacifica, leaning over the other girl and trying to catch her far-away gaze. “Everything is alright. Crazy as hell but definitely real,” she assure with kindness. Still, below her Mabel was still taking those deep breaths and looking a little scared. “You don’t believe me, do you?” 

“I want to,” Mabel assured, the wetness in her eyes finally welling up so much that they overflowed. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, leaving glistening trails across her temples. “I really, really do! I’m sorry,” she gasped, lifting her hands to press the heels of them into her eyes. “I just--I just,” her voice hitched with her breathing and she sniffled “Ever since Bill…” 

“Sh-sh-sh-shhh,” Pacifica soothed, unable to stand anymore tears. “What do I have to do to make you believe me,” she asked gently, lifting a hand to pet over Mabel’s mussed hair. Mabel flattened her hands over her face and started to shake her head. 

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” she whimpered before raking her hands roughly through her hair and dislodging the blonde’s hand. The steady, even breaths she’d been working so hard to maintain were falling apart. “I just can’t -- I’m not in the bubble right,” she gasped, panicked and wild-eyed. With each moment that passed, she expected for the room to fall apart and show her that she was still trapped in that rainbow colored nightmare that Bill had created. “Dipper got me out, right,” she whimpered. 

“Mabel,” Pacifica said, her voice hitting a higher pitch as her own anxiousness grew. She didn’t know what to do about this. “You’re okay! You’re not in the bubble anymore,” the girl assured, quickly, at a loss for what to do. Below her, Mabel looked as though she was trying hard to calm herself down. Wet brown eyes were locked on hers but all the dark haired girl could do was let out a high pitch whine before she slapped her hands over her face and started to dig her nails into her hairline when she couldn’t reign in her panic. “Mabel! Mabel, don’t,” Pacifica begged, grabbing the girl’s wrists so she could wrench her hands away from her face. Keeping the girl’s arms pinned, she fell forward and without thinking Pacifica kissed the other girl’s forehead, and then her cheeks, her nose, finally her lips. “Stop! You’re okay. I promise that everything is rea!!” 

As their lips met, Mabel's erratic breathing stopped entirely for a moment. When the blonde pulled away, it didn't seem near as impossible to take a breath deep enough to actually fill her lungs and things didn’t seem quite as bad anymore. More kisses were peppered across her face in Pacifica’s panicked attempts to make her calm down. The moments between her lips pressing against Mabel’s skin were filled with rambling promises that everything was real, that she was okay, that Pacifica would make sure she was okay. Suddenly all feeling of hysteria left her, every ounce of energy she’d put into freaking out oozed out of her and she was left feeling so, so, so tired. With a little wriggle, she started to try and free her hands from the other girl’s grasp, tugging them until they young woman lifter hands and leg go of her wrists. Pacifica leaned up, looking down at her with worried, wet eyes. 

“Thank you,” Mabel murmured softly, giving her a weak smile and lifting her hands to cradle the blonde’s face. She pulled her down for a kiss, and then another, and another. Everything was weird as hell but it was going to be alright. Even if it wasn’t she thought maybe she could afford to enjoy herself a little. “Let’s just go to sleep for a while.. Okay,” the brunette whispered. 

Pacifica didn’t say anything, but simply nodded. Sleeping sounded like a great idea. With a little squirming and wiggling, the two rolled themselves onto their sides. They fit, but the cot was still so narrow that they needed to cling to each other not to fall off, not that either girl minded. Mabel tucked her face into Pacifica’s neck, an arm wrapped snaking under the young woman’s arm and around her back. The blonde wrapped her arms around Mabel’s shoulders and head, gently running her fingers through her hair until she felt the girl’s breaths even out as they ghosted over her collarbone.

***************

The living room was home to a much calmer scene. Stan had ended up on the fold-out couch, staring at the TV and watching a show that was oddly familiar but different. Like so many other things. Rick was still outside. Only the occasional banging noise and cussing could be heard coming through the kitchen window. Just as he'd about reach the peak of his melancholy Rikki came barging into the living room and threw herself onto the bed, crushing his legs.

“Sup, old man,” she said with a sharp grin as she rolled off him and got settled on the side of the bed nearest the door. Lee came out moments later dropping down on the other side of the bed far more sedately. With him he brought a tray with what looked like everything one needed in order to roll a spectacular joint. “Kids are abed. W-wanna smoke?”

Stan couldn't help but snort. Still, he nodded his head, making the woman’s grin grow and become a shade more friendly. Beside on his corner if the bed, Lee started breaking up their weed, but before he could actually begin the process of rolling it into something smokable, Rikki’s hand crept out and snatched the tray off his lap. The man have her a disgruntled look. 

“Hey, he protested, reaching for the tray only to have her slap at his hands. And shoot him an amused glance. 

“Stop it! Y-You can't roll for shit,” Rikki laughed, as she started rolling the bud that Lee had broken up for her. “Your--your fingers are good for a lot of things but not rolling joints,” she teased, licking along the edge of the paper to seal it shut. 

“Oh is that so,” Lee asked, giving Stan a conspiring grin while the woman was distracted finishing her little project. The older man arched a brow, making his younger self grin cheekily. “So what exactly are my fingers good for then,” the man asked once his lover had moved on to actually sparking the joint up. She made a humming noise as if to answer, but before she could, Lee had reached out with a thick arm and caught the whip-thin woman around the waist and dragged her across the bed, into his lap, making her squeal. 

It was surreal for Stan, watching these younger versions of himself and Rick playing and teasing each other. He and Rick had never quite gotten to the same point Lee and Rikki seemed to have found. By the time Rick had left picking at him and trying to be cute or sweet had still ended in a flurry of insults or surprisingly rough sex. Rikki sure seemed embarrassed, blushing and squirming as Lee slid a hand under the loose tank-top she was wearing and flattened his palm over her stomach. But she wasn’t yelling, or slapping at him, or trying that hard to get away. When it became obvious that Lee wasn’t letting go any time soon, she huffed and leaned against him. He chuckled, plucking the joint from between her slender fingers and hitting it. Instead of letting her have a turn when he was done he stretched his arm out, passing it to Stan. 

“Hey! I-I rolled that,” Rikki said indignantly. Lee just grunted and lifted his free hand to grab the woman’s pointed chin, turning her face toward his. She rolled her eyes so hard that Stan thought they were about to pop right out of her head but in the end, when Lee opened his mouth and a let out a little tendril of smoke she leaned in and breathed it in. The smoke spun between their mouths, and when she’d taken all he had to give, Rikki leaned in and pecked the man on the lips. Even if she’d been the one to initiate the little show of affection, her face, neck and ears were still red. This version of Rick had apparently learned to let herself be treated kindly. It was sweet. “Y-you’re a fucking dick.” 

As sweet as any Rick could be, anyway. Laughing, she slid off Lee’s lap, and for the first time Stan noticed how similarly they were dressed. Both wearing nothing but shirts and boxers. The only real differences were the patterns on the shorts and the fact that Lee was wearing an old, red t-shirt instead of a huge grey tank top. Stan would’ve been willing to bet everything that he had that the clothes Rikki was wearing were actually Lee’s, what with how they hung off of her. As she crawled along the side of bed on her hands and knees, the shirt she was wearing gaped away from her body so much that the side of her breast could be seen through the arm of the shirt. 

“You two are up to something,” Stan accused raspily after hitting the joint. Rikki settled down beside him, smiling cheekily. He narrowed his eyes at her and glanced between the woman and his younger doppleganger who was wearing an equally mischievous grin on his face. They were definitely up to something. 

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rikki hummed, taking the joint and hitting a few times before beckoning Lee closer. He grinned and followed the woman’s path, settling on his stomach, between her legs. Instead of passing him the joint, though, she flipped it around, putting the lit end in her mouth. Her lover rose up, lips hovering around the end of the joint as she blew smoke through it. For his part, Lee leaned closer as he inhaled, until their lips touched, and then when he pulled back the little hand-rolled spliff was hanging from his lips. “We-we’re just trying to unwind before bed. Right, Lee,” she said, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. 

“That’s right,” he said cheerfully, before passing the joint and settling back down. His hands lighted on her hips, sliding up under her shirt and pushing it up as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his cheek into her stomach. Stan could feel the woman shiver a little beside him as the younger man scrubbed his slightly bristly chin over skin. “Nothin’ we wouldn’t normally be doing. Only we thought ya know. You wouldn’t be tired yet and it’s kinda lonely out here with a busted TV and your Rick off having a tantrum in the yard soooo…” he trailed off and shrugged. “We thought we’d pay you a visit.” 

Stan narrowed his eyes as he looked between the two. Rikki was fidgeting restlessly, carding her fingers through Lee’s hair and watching sharp-eyed as the older man hit and passed the joint. He felt his younger self’s arm move as he dragged it from Rikki’s back to her side. Her breath hitched slightly as she inhaled while Lee’s hand crept ever further up her side and under her shirt. As she exhaled smoke billowed from her nose as though she were a dragon and she let her head fall back against the back of the couch. 

“Are you two fumbling around and trying to _seduce_ me,” Stan finally asked, making Lee choke on his hit. He started sputtering and coughing, pressing his face into Rikki’s stomach to smother the sound. The woman blushed but grinned and shrugged with such a sheepish expression that she hardly looked like Rick at all. 

“Is it working,” she asked, arching her brows and all Stan could do was stare at them before letting out a sudden bark of laughter. It was soon joined by Rikki’s giggles and then Lee’s deeper chuckles. They sounded like a pack of hyenas as their uproarious cackling filled the room. 

“Oh--Oh God. You two are fun to watch but that was just awkward as all hell,” Stan wheezed, getting a sharp nudge in the side, probably by Rikki. “You actually have to--hahaha-- you have to show interest in the third party to start a threesome,” he laughed, feeling tears leak from the corners of his eyes as his stomach started to ache. “I thought you were going to start humping each other in my bed and I’d have to go spend the night in the yard with Rick.” 

“Sh-Shut up! It’s been a while since w-we tried seducing anyone,” Rikki laughed and Lee huffed in agreement. Having a kid severely cut into the time would could spend looking for fun and adventurous ways to spice up their sexlife. For a while the extend of their ‘sexlife’ had been reaching over to the other side of the bed and helping finish each other off before passing out and then waking up an hour later to change or feed the baby. Speaking of which...

“Mama… Daddy? What’re you doing,” Roland’s voice cut through the laughter. Small as it was, Rikki could pick it out of even the most chaotic noise. Biting back the rest of her laughter, the woman squirmed out from under Lee and went to scoop the wee one up into her arms. 

“I-I-I could ask you the same thing,” she said as she hefted the boy up. He wrapped his arms around his mother’s neck and nuzzled into her shoulder. “You-you’re supposed to be in Mama and Daddy’s room,” she accused, glancing back at the men on the pull-out couch as Roland started mumbling about how everyone was laughing. With a little smile, she nuzzled the top of her son’s head and headed back toward the bedroom. “Sorry, baby. W-We didn’t mean to wake you up,” she assured quietly as she disappeared from sight.

Lee grinned stupidly as he watched the two. Stan couldn't remember being that happy at that age. Humming, the old man picked the joint out from where it had fallen into the sheets. There was a tiny hole under where the cherry had burned itself out. Judging by similar little burn marks on the couch itself, he didn't think it would be that big a deal. The only real misfortune that Stan could see was that the lighter was still missing. 

“Lookin’ for this,” Lee asked, flicking the bic at Stan and chuckling. The older man grunted and got the bone smoking again, then took a hit. 

“Thanks. You know, you seem a lot happier than I was at your age,” he commented gesturing toward the bedroom that Rikki had vanished into. “Both of you do.” 

Lee hummed and lifted his shoulder as he snatched the joint from Stan’s outstretched hand. “Things were different for us than you guys. Rick is pretty tight-lipped but he’s come by a few times. Before Roland. He’s told us some of how his life turned out. Far as I can see, from what he has told us, shit started hitting the fan when you two split up.” Eyeing his elderly counterpart, the young man hit the joint and passed it back. “That sound about right to you?”

Stan toked in silence for moment before letting out a sigh that was accompanied by a billow of smoke. Sure, he was kinda devastated when Rick up and disappeared but he wouldn't say his life fell apart or anything. He had just been grumpier, a little more gruff. He got into less trouble than he would have with the bike haired rock-star but got caught twice as often. Then there was Ford and the portal and all the years he spent working on the damn thing to get his brother back. 

Maybe he just traded one obsession for another.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told yall I was still writing!!!

Rick stumbled back into the house long after everyone else had gone to sleep. Noisily, he slammed into the kitchen and then made his way to the living room with wavering steps that kept him swaying forward and back as he swerved around the bar that separated the two rooms. With a grunt, he walked into the bed and let himself fall face first into the fold-out bed and onto Stan. The burly man grunted in annoyance as he came awake. The TV was still on leaking dim, fuzzy light into the room. He couldn't see particularly well without his glasses but if nothing else the sour smell of liquor saturated vomit was enough to give away who it was on top of him. A wet, thin face pressed into his neck and Stan shuddered. He’s bet anything that was puke soaking onto the collar of his shirt. The first thought he had was to shove the old drunk off of him. But then the image of Rikki and Lee drifted to the forefront of his mind and gave him the urge to do something else instead. 

“Drunk old buzzard,” Stan grumbled, wrapping an arm around the twig-like man’s waist and rolling them both over onto their sides. “Go the fuck to sleep,” he muttered as Rick made some vaguely annoyed, questioning sounds. For a moment everything was fine… and then Rick’s hands were at his throat. 

“W-WHO--WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU,” the old, skinny drunk shouted, thin fingered hands surprisingly strong as they flexed against Stan’s windpipe. The snow on the TV was reflected in the man’s panic crazed eyes.

“Urhgh.. M’Stan,” the man wheezed, trying to pry his friend’s fingers off his neck. His head was quickly feeling like it was about to pop right off as grey started to eat up the edges of his vision. Neither could hear it but in another room someone was jumping out of bed. 

“YOU-YOU-YOU THINK YOU CAN FOOL ME? HO DO I-I KNOW YOU’RE NOT A SIMULATION? OR DO YOU-YOU WORK FOR TH-THE GALACTIC FEDERATION?! YOU’LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE MOTHER FUCKER!!!” Spit flew from his mouth as Rick ranted, spraying Stan’s face. That was the least of his worries, though. Despite how he writhed and clawed at the other man’s hands he couldn’t loosen his grip.

As his vision grew dark, Stan grunted and made a desperate swing for the sharp, angry face hovering above his. He felt his fist connect and the hands around his throat lossen. It wasn’t much but it was enough for Stan to Frantically buck the other man off of him and scramble out of the bed. Panting and rubbing at his throat, the man backed into the kitchen, bouncing roughly off the bar and then stumbling in reverse, toward the back door. Rick was only stunned for a moment before he was scrambling after him, blood trickling from his nose. He almost looked like some sort of demon as he threw himself off the bed, ready to make a drunken sprint after his victim. Before he could, however, a familiar blue and white guitar swung out from the darkness and cracked against the man’s head, sending him sprawling onto the ground. 

“W-What the fuck is going on here,” Rikki asked blearily as she came out from the hall, nudging her male counterpart with her foot and letting her guitar dangle from her hand. “W-W-We’re trying to sleep here,” she grumbled, scrubbing a thin hand over her face. 

“Grunkle Stan,” Mabel’s voice questioned as she and Pacifica each came out of the dark as well. Lee was somewhere in the back of all of them and slipped forward to flick on the light in the kitchen. Apparently Rikki wasn’t the only one who had been woken up. She was already falling asleep again, though, swaying slightly where she stood. “Oh shit,” Mabel gasped, looking down at Rick and then at her near-terrified Grunkle. Frantically she ran forward to hug the man. “Are you alright?” 

“What the hell happened,” Pacifica asked through a yawn. Her short hair sticking up in odd angles all over her head. “And what’s going on with your walls in the other room,” she asked Lee who grunted tiredly as he cradled a giggling Roland against his chest. Whether he had been woken up by the noise or not, he seemed untroubled by the current events. 

“Photosensitive moss and-aaaah-and a projector in the light fixture,” Rikki answered mouth dropping open in a yawn as she stepped backward and let herself collapse onto the bed that Stan had been chased from. Curling around her guitar, she rested her cheek on the neck of the instrument and let herself doze. In the kitchen Stan hugged his niece back while Lee juggled Roland and the coffee maker, putting on a pot as he Roland grabbed at his face. 

“Fucking Rick went insane is what happened,” Stan said, answering the question on everyone’s mind. “Started going on about simulations and the Galactic Federation,” he continued, voice holding a slightly questioning lilt to it. “Started attacking me and asking if I was real.” Pacifica and Mabel shared a look while Rikki hummed loudly from the living room. 

“S’post traumatic stress or-or some shit,” the woman said, slowly shifting until she could stare at everyone milling around. “He’ll be fine w-when he wakes up. Why are you-you making fucking coffee,” she grumbled, smashing her face into the bedding. There was a bar digging into her ribs as she rolled onto her stomach but she didn’t want to get up. “No one wants to be awake this early.” 

“Close enough to when we wake up anyway,” Lee replied, shuffling back into the kitchen and plopping Roland down on his mother’s back. She groaned in protest but did nothing to stop the toddler from crawling up her back and burying his fingers in her hair as he babbled. “You alright,” the man asked Stan as he made his way back into the kitchen and started dragging out eggs, potatoes, and frying pans. 

“Uh yeah… Fine just… wow. That is not a fun way to wake up,” the older man grumbled, rubbing at his throat. He’d gotten into fights with Rick before, physical ones that left them with black eyes and busted lips. But this was the first time that the man had actually seemed intent upon killing him. Noticing that the kitchen was getting more than a little cramped with how many people were in it, he wrapped an arm around Mabel’s shoulders and led her out of the kitchen. “So what is the Galactic Federation anyway,” he asked as he plopped down into a chair while Mabel joined a tired Pacifica on the barstools. Rick had mentioned them back at The Shack, too, referencing them as a reason for why he’d left. 

“Depends on who you ask,” Rikki started, propping her head up on her chin while Roland amused himself with pulling on her hair. “But since you’re asking me, I-I’m going to have to say they’re a bag of fucking dicks, that are trying to run the universe,” she yawned, wincing as her son yanked rather forcefully on the back of her head. Apparently that was enough to get her rolling onto her side so that he fell onto the mattress. Sitting up, she reached out to tickle the boy’s stomach. The resulting squeal was nauseatingly loud. 

“Both Rick and Rikki were or are part of a resistance that are working to spread anti-federation propaganda and fighting the colonization of other planets, like Birdperson’s,” Lee continued, as Rikki nodded along with him, watching Roland take interest in her guitar. A smile tugged on her lips as he plunked at the strings with his chubby little hands. 

“Yeah, except Rick’s pull-out game is as weak as Lee’s,” she commented, smirking as there was an alarming clatter from the kitchen. “So unlike m-me Rick’s gotten to know them on an unfortunately personal level. What with all th-the torture and various war-crimes and things of that nature,” she said, looking down at Rick with a small glimmer of sympathy. She supposed that’s what happened when one tried to hard to save the world.

***************

Breakfast had continued as usual while they let Rick stay on the floor. There had been shells in the eggs and the potatoes hadn’t been entirely cooked all the way through but aside form that it tasted alright. Though it was becoming clear that Lee really wasn’t the best cook. Which had lead to the question of why he was the one doing most of the cooking. Apparently Rikki would get way too inventive in the kitchen. That was the only answer that had been offered when Pacifical asked. Judging by the annoyed flush that crossed Rikki’s cheeks and Lee’s smirk, it was an embarrassing story, though. No matter how much Mabel begged to hear it the two were steadfast in their decision to not delve further into the details.

After they ate everyone dispersed briefly, finding clothes to wear, getting ready for the day. When Rikki emerged from her bedroom, wearing a pair of white shorts and a black tank top that hung loosely from her thin frame. Stopping in the mouth of the hall, she took in the unusually large crowd of people in her living room. The girls were slumped on the couch, watching the TV as Stan flicked through the channels. Rick gurgled on the floor. Fun as it could be to have company, it was also a little annoying to have a pack of moochers hanging out on her couch and getting in the way of her daily routine. She couldn’t think of a better way to remedy the situation than putting them to work. 

“Hey guys… Soooo I have a busy day ahead of me and since I-I-I’m letting you stay here out of th-the kindness of my heart, I don’t think it’s entirely out of place for me to make y-you my bitches for the day,” Rikki chirped, making everyone jump slightly at the abrupt announcement. Before anyone could say a thing about it, she pointed at Stan. “You and him,” she motioned to Rick who was finally starting to get up off the floor, probably trying to focus his scrambled mind into telling Rikki that she couldn’t tell him what to do, “are going to go help Lee with production. Y-you two,” she nodded at the girls. “Are going to stay and help me with… whatever.” Nobody moved, Save for Rick who had gotten to his hands and knees and lifted his head to glare up at the woman. “Am I not speaking English? Get moving,” she snapped, arms akimbo. 

Stan grumbled about bossy young women and got up from his seat, pausing to snag a fistfull of Rick’s labcoat and the shirt underneath so that he could yank the spindly old man to his feet. Rikki paid no mind to their disgruntled muttering as they left through the back door, that Lee had disappeared through after breakfast. While the two of them had at least some vague idea of what was being asked of them, Mabel and Pacifica were somewhat clueless. 

“So um… What are we helping with,” Mabel asked first, casting a confused, mildly concerned look around the room. Roland had been tucked into his room, door left open so that his laughter could be heard as he did… whatever toddlers did. 

“Probably something illegal,” Pacifica huffed, leaning back against the couch with her arms crossed defiantly. Her utterance simply made Rikki grin, though. Mabel looked like she wanted to protest but the blonde was probably right. 

“What gave it away, Blondie,” Rikki asked with a sarcastic lilt to her voice as she moved to the kitchen and yanked open a drawer by the sink. She pulled out a box of masks, similar to the ones Doctors wore while doing surgery, and a box of gloves. “Maybe it was th-that neither Lee or I have real jobs and I mean what else would I be ‘producing’, in a shed in my backyard?” She hurled the boxes at the girls unceremoniously. “Put those on.” 

“Oh what it’s not a greenhouse? You guys aren’t just big ole’ hippies growing all your own produce,” Pacifica asked, rolling her eyes as she grabbed a couple gloves from the box and worked them onto her hands. Mabel looked a little uncertain as she followed suit while Rikki laughed. 

“Well y-you’re actually not entirely wrong,” The older woman chuckled, moving to drop down on the floor between the couch and the old speaker case that they usually used as a coffee table. She pulled on her own pair of gloves and a mask as well before thumbing up all the clasps around the edge of the case that held the lid down. Even then, there was a padlock hanging from the last clasp in the center and Rikki hummed as she arched over the lock and spun the dial until it opened under her fingers with a soft click. 

“Holy fucking shit,” Pacifica gaped as the case was thrown open. There were bags of powders and pills, jars of weed, and all of it was labeled in neat, cramped script. Some of it the younger girls could take a guess at but there was plenty of stuff in the depths of the trunk that neither recognized. . 

“This is your job,” Mabel squeaked in disbelief. She wasn’t so much surprised by the drugs as much as the sheer amount of them. When the woman had been so reluctant to let them into her home, she’d assumed it was all because of Roland, but she supposed that this had something to do with it too.

“Yup! I-I mean when I got pregnant I couldn’t like _do_ any of this stuff anymore,” she huffed, wrinkling her nose a little bit. “Which I guess is a good th-thing. But I-I couldn’t tour anymore either, couldn’t go and fight with Squanchy and Bird Person. Drug dealer seemed like a decently safe step down. Besides. It-it keeps the bills paid and helps fund my side projects.” 

“A _safe_ step down,” Pacifica asked incredulously, picking up a bag of brown powder that had been formed into a neat little brick. “This is heroine! How is this a safe anything? You have a kid! Should you really be dealing drugs out of your house!?” 

“Don’t judge me! Besides. I-I-I’m already a wanted woman and I-I’m way more concerned about the Galactic Federation than the cops or some junkies trying to rob me,” Rikki snapped as she grabbed back the tiny brick. “And don’t touch that. Y-you’re measuring out this,” she continued, pulling out two jars of plain old Mary Jane and passing them to the girls. 

Pacifica was still fuming and Mabel just looked equal parts confused, wary, and amazed. Before anyone could start in on her lifestyle again, Rikki was pulling out scales and baggies and shoving them into the girl’s laps. After giving them everything they’d need, she got her own supplies ready as well and closed her trunk with a heavy thunk. Cradled in her crossed legs were three bags, one being the brick of heroin that the blonde behind her had been so concerned with, and the other two being a white powder that both girls assumed to be cocaine. Except one was oddly pearlescent. 

“Alright Blondie, you weigh out grams and package them up for me. And you, my little sapling, will be measuring out eights… You do know how much that is, right?” The woman asked, arching a brow as she looked over her shoulder at Mabel. 

The brunette shook her head quickly, and slowly sank down to the floor with the older woman who had already arranged her scale on the lid of the trunk. They were surprisingly modern looking, considering the time period. Mabel turned the device around in her hands with a little frown. It looked almost like a modern day scale, only there were way more wires sticking out everywhere, obviously home made. Of course it wasn’t that surprising that a Rick would be able to make such a thing. 

“You’re actually going to help her with this,” Pacifica asks incredulously, watching as the two on the floor set to work. Mabel looks up from where she’s piling little buds up on each other on the scale but Rikki doesn’t even bother to look up from where she’s carefully using a plastic spoon to tap a little pile of heroin onto her own scale. 

“Help or don’t but I-I need to get this shit done,” the woman snapped, carefully tipping the minute amount of powder into a rectangle of paper that she folded into a neat little square. 

Mabel shrugged when her friend jerked her head in her direction, eyes sparking with frustration. It isn’t like not helping Rikki would make her stop selling drugs, even for that day. In the end, Pacifica just groaned as she slumped down on Rikki’s other side and got to work. It lasted all of an hour before things started to fall apart. 

Surprisingly enough it wasn't because of Pacifica being antagonistic but Rikki’s steadily increasing restlessness. After the first thirty minutes every little noise made her snap her head up and look around. An hour in and she kept shifting her legs and squirming, getting half way up off the floor and then dropping back down, muttering to herself. Then all it took was one delighted squeal from Roland’s room and she's up and moving.

“Break time, bitches,” she called over her shoulder as she hurried to her son's room. As soon as the woman disappeared, Mabel and Pacifica slumped back against the couch, almost in unison and sighed. 

“Bet ya she is ten times worse about stopping to go check on Roland when no one else is here,” Mabel giggled. Picking up one of the baggies she'd filled with weed and twirling it between her fingers. “You think she’ll smoke with us?”

“She seems like a total basket case to me,” Pacifica sighed, draping her arm over her eyes. She didn’t address the other question. Really, she wouldn’t be surprised if the older woman lit one up and smoked with them, or if she’d say no just to be a bitch. 

“I’m pretty sure all geniuses are crazy,” the dark haired girl replied. Moments later, Rikki was coming back, wearing new clothes and holding an ecstatic Roland on her hip. “Seems like he missed her too.” 

The older woman seemed to ignore them almost completely as she made a beeline for the back door. Roland laughed when it banged open dramatically his mother and plopped him on the ground. He took off into the back yard as quick as his little legs would carry him while his mother shouted from the doorway. 

 

“BE FREE MY LITTLE MONSTER!!!” Neither Mabel or Pacifica would hear his squealed reply but it lit up Rikki’s face with a smile. Glancing over her shoulder, she looked at the girls and nodded her chin in their direction. “Grab a couple of those eighths and come outside,” she ordered, though with far less irritation in her voice than there had been at the beginning of their packaging session. 

Pacifica watched Rikki snatch the little bags of weed form Mabel when they joined her outside. She went first to one side of her yard and then the other, making sales to her neighbors over the fence. Once done, she made a beeline for her son. As the older woman flopped out on the grass with her son, letting him rip grass out of the ground and sprinkle it over her face, the blonde admitted that maybe she wasn’t such a terrible mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was way late but I'm going to try and finish this particular work in a somewhat timely fashion, and then maybe take an actual break. Just like... be patient with me.


	5. Home again, home again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> our timelines link up again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank everyone who didn't give up on me when I disappeared for a while. I have to admit this may not be my strongest chapter/fic. I ran though the last bit of this while eating poptarts at 3 in the morning. Oh and a special thanks to all you guys who left comments about how much yall liked this series because it did help get me back into writing for it. And an extra special thank you to [someblobdonutthingidk](https://someblobdonutthingidk.tumblr.com/) for the fanart they made of [Rikki](https://someblobdonutthingidk.tumblr.com/post/163002736332/ayyyy-back-with-more-shiiit-read-out-of-control)! Check them the fuck out because they are totally awesome and talented!

By the time the sun went down, any fond feelings Pacifica might have had for Rikki are gone. After they finished divvying out little baggies of drugs, she roped Mabel and Pacifica into helping her bleach and dye her hair. Currently, the blue haired woman was fluffing the vibrantly blue locks in the bathroom mirror. Apparently she’d decided the adults should go out and do something fun, leaving Mabel and Pacifica to watch Roland. Mabel didn’t seem to mind, already enthusiastically trying to show the youngster how to braid her hair. The blond was less excited. 

“So you’re just going to leave him here, with two teenagers you don’t know,” Pacifica argued, still trying to get out of babysitting. 

The older woman snorted, cutting her eyes to the side to give the girl an unimpressed look. Propping her hands on her hips she looked down her nose at the blonde. Pacifica would never admit it but Rikki cut an impressive figure, decked out in black. Scuffed biker boots, tight jeans, and yet another shirt with “The Flesh Curtains” printed across the chest. 

“LIsten kid,” she said, leaning forward so that she was propped up against the door frame. “It’s not as though I’m not worried. However, I’m hoping the knowledge that I will fucking kill you where you stand if anything happens to my kid will be enough to encourage you to be a good babysitter.” With that her black-painted lips stretched into a vicious little grin before she pushed her way past the girl and strode out into the livingroom. 

Rick and Rikki were dressed similarly, as were Lee and Stan. 

“You guys look like a couple of dads going out with their kids,” Pacifica pointed out, giving the group a snide little once over. 

Rick just smirked at the girl and sidled up to Rikki, dropping his hand on her hip. His finger slid up under the hem of her shirt as he pulled her close and tilted his head till it clunked against his younger double’s. Behind them, Stan and Lee glanced at each other and then their Ricks. 

“Y-you just made this whole thing way kinkier than it needed to be, kid,” Rick stuttered with a grin before lifting his ever present flask to his lips. Pacifica sneered

“Ew… Has anyone ever told you that you’re a gross old man,” she countered, making Rick let out a bark of a laugh. 

“M-more times than I can count,” with that, he started pulling Rikki toward the door, calling to the Stans as he did so. “Hurry up and let's get this show on the road. IT’S TIME TO GET RICKITY REKT!!!!” 

The two geniuses laughed their way out the door, followed by Stan. Which left Lee frantically going over the instructions that they’d given Mabel moments before. Of course telling her again wasn’t going to hurt. 

“He goes to bed at nine o’clock. If you need us set the TV to channel 505. It sends out a distress signal. Rikki will get it. If anyone tries to get in the house there’s a bat in the closet but you probably won’t need it because anyone who isn’t chipped will get zapped if they cross through the windows or doors,” he said to Mabel, the girl nodding along obligingly. Outside a horn blared and he sighed. “Have fun. Stay safe. If anything happens to the kid I know people who will buy your organs after Rikki kills you! Bye!!!” 

“Well… they’re a lovely couple,” Pacifica muttered, slamming the door behind the man as he and the other three sped off with the screech of tires to accompany their departure.

***************

By the time Lee had gotten to the car, Rick had planted himself in the passenger seat, beside Rikki. The woman was just lighting a joint and grinned widely as she heard the door open and close. There was a playful look in her eye when she glanced over her shoulder at the younger version of Stan.

“Took y-you long enough,” she said, taking a puff and then passing it back, earning an offended noise from Rick as he screwed the lid back on his flask. “Don’t give me that. Y-You know we pass to the left,” she huffed, backing out of the driveway while the car slowly started to fill with smoke.

“You actually let her drive The Stanmobile,” Stan coughed, making Lee chuckle. Truthfully he hadn’t for quite a long time. Their typical modis operandi being that she would be sprawled out in the seat, either drunk as hell or high as a kite. After Roland that had changed, though. 

“She’s not so bad behind the wheel,” Lee assured as he passed the joint back up to the front. Which was mostly true. The biggest problem she had was getting irrationally pissed with other drivers on the road.

Thankfully the streets were fairly calm that night. By the time the group reached their destination, a small but busy looking bar that was packed with locals, everyone was in _high_ spirits. Every eye in the place snapped towards them when they bustled through the doors. Lee had managed to pry Rikki from Rick’s clutches and was entirely unable to stop his smirk as he walked with his arm curled around the woman's waist. Their doubles followed, though with quite a bit more distance between them than the couple ahead. Rikki preened under the momentary attention as she marched toward the bar. 

Lagging behind, Stan and Rick watched as the woman leaned on the bar, chatting with bartender and presumably ordering drinks. Not that they really needed to get Rick anything, what with his seemingly bottomless flask that he was always carrying around. Privately, Stan though that his old friend could do to slow down some. But… Well thinking back to how he’d been woken up that morning, there was obviously a reason behind the old drunk’s habit. Though maybe if he’d talk to someone about it… Or that could have just been Stan selfishly wanting to know what had dragged the man away all those years ago, what he had been doing all this time. Cutting his eyes to the side to steal a glance of the tall, lanky man he was rather unsurprised to find Rick blatantly staring at Lee and Rikki’s asses. Rolling his eyes, Stan jabbed him in the side with his elbow. 

“You old pervert,” he smirked, earning an affronted look from the other man. 

“Sh-shut the fuck up Pines. Look at them! We used to have great asses,” Rick insisted without shame, making Stan laugh. It wasn’t like he was wrong, after all. 

“Rikki’s looks a little better than yours ever did,” Stan replied, glancing around the room. It was like oh so many others that he’d visited in his youth. Nothing fancy, just a small-town bar with wood paneling on the walls and a pool table or two off to the side with the rest of the room filled up with tables and chairs. 

“Rude. See if I suck y--your dick tonight,” Rick said haughtily, shoving his hand under his coat pocket and digging around for his flask. 

“As if I’d want you to,” Stan grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Never heard you say no before,” Rick pointed out before tipping his flask against his lips. How, he drank so fucking much without dying was a mystery to the man beside him. 

“Well that was before you left.” The words make Rick frown and duck his head slightly. “I mean look at what you’re missing out on,” Stan continued, motioning toward their younger selves. 

Lee’s hand rested on Rikki’s hip as she leaned her elbows on the bar, chatting with the man on the other side. There was a brief, sneaky transaction between the two where the blue haired woman plucked something from her bra and slipped it into the barman’s hand while he slid a folded bill into her palm. Lee watched the room while the woman worked, his hand slid from her hip down into her back pocket, making her turn to look at him with a little grin. She leaned in to give him a quick peck on the lips before shoving up off the bar and throwing her arm around his shoulders. The whole scene reminded Stan of how he and Rick had been before, though these two seemed to be on a slightly more even keel. 

“Oh y-yeah. Sorry I missed out on getting knocked up and living in some shabby little Duplex where I have to sell drugs to make a living,” Rick said blandly, staring fixedly at Lee and Rikki. His face was a carefully crafted mask of blankness and it infuriated Stan because as always he was repressing his emotions and keeping him in the dark. “And y-you know sh-she’s not so fucking perfect right? I found my way into their tool shed and there’s a whole damn lab in there!” Stan wanted to comment that of course she has a lab because in what universe would Rick not have a lab? Besides, they had both been in there that afternoon helping him make the Unicorn Farts that Lee and Rickie were selling now. “Sh-shut! I can hear you thinking! She makes weapons too! You know that? Sh-she’s not out in space fighting the Galactic Federation but she’s providing the-the people that do with weapons. All sh-she’s doing is putting Lee and that kid in danger by staying with them.” 

The urge to beat the Rick’s sour disposition right out of him wasn’t exactly an unfamiliar one but the quickness with which his anger passed was. Maybe it was having Ford back and actually having a family again but he found himself more frustrated than anything. When he and Rick met both of them had been young and angry at the world and they found some sort of peace because they understood each other on some level. Even if Rick was a super genius and Stan had been a more lucky than talented con artist, they had fit. Now, years later Stan could see that while he had found some sort of happiness with getting his family back, Rick has just gotten more and more bitter. Before Stan could lay into Rick with any of these observations, there was an arm thrown over his shoulder. 

“Hey guys! Not that I’m not down to watch two old geezers bare knuckle box in the middle of my favorite bar, maybe we avoid that while my lady’s working!” Of course it’s Lee and somehow he managed to sneak up on the two old men. With one arm around Stan’s shoulders and the other curled around Rick’s waist he ushered the men over to a table in the back corner of the room. “You guys can fight out your frustrations with each other once Rikki gets all the product off her person. Until then have a drink, relax! We’re supposed to be having fun tonight!” 

Lee left them there and wandered back off to the bar while Rikki drifted around the room, chatting with people at tables and stealthily trading drugs for money. Moments later a round of beers hit the table with a thump and Lee dropped into a chair between the two older men. Rick wasted no time in downing half the pre-opened bottle in one pull before whipping out his flask to refill the bottle with whatever was inside. Stan took a little longer, frowning at the bottle for a moment before deciding that he wasn’t so old that a few beers would kill him.

***************

“Is it just me or is this kid kinda weird,” Pacifica asked from where she was perched on the couch, watching Mabel and Roland playing on the floor. The kid was surprisingly easy to take care of and it kinda weirded Pacifica out. “Aren’t they supposed to like cry all the time and be generally annoying?”

“Naaah! Some kids are just easier than others. Besides, he’s a toddler, not a baby! He’s old enough to know how to have fun! Isn’t that right,” Mabel said, turning her attention to Roland and picking him up and then rolling onto her back. “Who wants to fly,” she asked before curling her knees to her chest and then carefully getting her feet under Roland’s tummy. He let out a shriek of laughter as she thrust her legs into the air, holding onto his hands to keep him from overbalancing and falling off. “Wheeeee!!!! See! Isn't’ this fun?!” 

Roland certainly seemed to think so with the way he was laughing. Pacifica wasn’t having nearly as much fun but she did think the scene is kinda cute, not that she’d ever say so. She’d also never admit to the fact that this babysitting thing wasn’t so bad. Things had been fine since the adults had left. Though Pacifica was pretty sure that Lee would be pitching a fit about the fact that they haven’t even tried to get Roland to bed yet. Mabel wa having too much fun playing with him and Pacifica didn’t really care if Rikki and Lee have to deal with a cranky 2 year old tomorrow. It wasn’t as though she can even picture the kid being cranky or hard to manage. As she mentioned before, Roland was an oddly easy kid to deal with. 

Mabel giggled as she gently lowers Roland form the air and cradled him against her torso as she rolled back into a seated position. He laughed with her the whole time, springing up form Mabel’s lap as soon as she let him go. The boy lurched toward the TV which was set into a well-used entertainment center. It was just a set of shelves set around the TV, or they were shelves now. The doors had been removed. Movies are stuffed into each cubby and Roland seemed intent on grabbing one when someone knocked on the door. 

Everything became still for a moment. It wasn’t as though they were talking or anything beforehand but after the knock there was an eerie feeling that something had changed. Even Roland seemed unsettled as he looked at the door and frowned. Then the stillness broke when the little boy turned back to mabel and wraps his arms around her neck. She answered his request for comfort by scooping him into her arms and standing up.

“Pacifica,” Mabel started, giving the blonde a meaningful look as she stepped further back into the house.

“On it,” Pacifica replied, jumping up off the couch. She stopped by the closet beside the front door to get the bat that Lee had mentioned before checking to see who had decided to pay them a visit. The person on the other side of the door knocked again. It seemed that they were getting impatient. When Pacifica cracked open the door, only opening it only as far as the chain lock would allow. “What do you want,” she asked, glaring up at the man on the other side. 

He had brown hair, a smile that said 'I’m harmless, really’. It was a smile that reminded Pacifica of doctors, or dentists. They would always smile at you in that fake, plastic sort of way; like they were trying to make themselves more approachable right before sticking you with a needle. As if that wasn't weird enough, he was wearing a suit in middle of the night, looking like he just got off work. 

“Hello! Is this the residence of Rikki Sanchez? I am an old friend of hers and would like to say hello,” he said, bracing a hand on the door and pushing on it a little. “I really must speak with her.” 

“You don't really look like her sort of friend. Beside, she isn't around,” Pacifica said narrowing her eyes at the man. He was weird, weirder than your average weirdo. His words were annunciated too perfectly and his teeth were too white and straight and his facial expression never.changed. “Try again tomorrow.”

“I am afraid that will not do. I must speak with her now. I request entry,” the main said, pushing hard enough on the door to make the chain holding it shut creak from the tension. 

“Dude fuck off,” Pacifica said, trying to slam the door shut. It was hitting a brick wall. Frowning, she backed away from the door, bat raised over her right shoulder. 

Mabel watched, peeking from around the corner. Roland started to squirm and whimper in her arms, obviously feeling the anxiety building within the house. Pacifica looked uncertainly at the door. The man behind it was asking to be let in again, droning on in the same too perfect English. Chewing on her lip, Mabel watched as Pacifica backed away a little more. It a little obvious that she was all bark and no bite. 

“Hey, Pacifica! Trade me,” she said, rushing out of her hiding spot and pressing Roland into the blonde’s arms. He clung tightly to Mabel for a moment, making frustrated noises as she pried him away and shoved him into Pacifica's awkwardly waiting arms. “Take him to… to I don't know. Just hold him I got this,” the girl said with a slightly strained smile as she took the bat from Pacifica's hand. 

Mabel edged closer to the door, knees bent slightly, bat pulled back by her right ear. She let the rush of adrenaline making her heart pound in her ears take hold of her. Her eyes were trained on the center of the door, just waiting for it to break open and the man on the other side to come stumbling in. Everything felt almost surreal in the moment right before the door burst in. Mabel could simultaneously feel everything and nothing all at once. 

“I request entry! Where is Rikki Sanchez!” 

As soon as he finished those words the chain broke and the door slammed open, crashing into the closet door with a bang. The man took one lurching step forward. Before Mabel could even move there was a zap of electricity and the smell of burning plastic. As soon as the ma. Had stepped past the door jam he got shocked. His body started to shake, and his skin melted off his face, revealing a metal skeleton underneath. Slowly getting went to his knees as his skin and clothes burnt off.

“Error! Error! Error,” he shrieked in a robotic tone.

At the same time the house seemed to come alive. Segmented sheets of metal came banging down over the windows and a voice started echoing through the house, declaring a state of alarm. Security breach at front door. All systems armed. In the background Roland was wailing. Mabel felt kber knees go out from under her and she started out the front door, horrified to see what was surrounding the front of the house. 

They were insectile creatures that looked like a mix between a praying mantis and a fly. They were also holding weapons of some sort that looked vaguely like guns. One of them held up a megaphone and stepped forward, raising its clawed appendage in what was probably supposed to be a peaceful gesture. 

“Unidentified human! We are from the Galactic Federation and we mean you no harm we are only looking for Rikki Sanchez and her accomplices. No harm will come to you if you cooperate with us,” it said amicably. 

Mabel swallowed hard and scrambled toward the couch where the TV remote was sticking from between the couch cushions. With shaking hands she turned the TV on and then to channel 505. The screen fuzzed with static for a moment before it beeped once and Rikki’s panicked face came into view. 

“What's wrong?!”

***************

Everything happened so quickly that Lee, Stan, and Rick didn’t know what had really happened until they were already in the car. Rikki’s watch had started going off and she froze, then after lifting her wrist to her face, the woman took off. She had shouted that they were leaving without pause and offered no explanation until Rick was pulling Stan into the car as his younger counterpart burnt rubber, peeling out of the parking lot. Jest of it was:

Galactic Federation had found their house. 

The girls and Roland were cornered inside. 

Rikki was going to fucking kill everyone. 

“Wh-what did I say,” Rick sneered at Stan, who had started to sufficiently panic “I told you sh-she was putting them in danger by sticking around.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Lee had answered, much to both Stan and Rick’s shock. Rikki was glaring out the windshield with tears in her eyes and her lips pressed into a thin line. “I was putting myself in danger! I was putting Roland in danger. You think I didn’t know what she was building in that shed? You think I didn’t fucking stay of my own free will,” he asked from where he was rummaging under the seat. He came back up with one gun that he shoved into Rikki’s lap and another that he went about checking the safety on before shoving it down the back of his jeans. “You know something you and just about every other Rick I’ve ever met has in common? They don’t fucking think that us Stans know what we’re getting into with you crazy motherfuckers. Or that we can hold our own against your intergalactic bullshit!” 

“Oh really Pines? Have y-you ever gone up against sh-shit like this before? Y-You really think you can beat them? I-I-I mean sh-she might stand a chance but not with you there to worry about,” Rick said, leaning over the front seat to snarl at Lee. 

“No but I’m going to either kill them or die trying! They’re messing with my fucking kid, Sanchez,” Lee snapped back, opening the glove compartment and grabbing out a selection of geometric containers that glowed different colors. Most were big enough to fit in the palm of his hand. 

“Fuck off y-y-you’re not fucking dying y-y-you piece of sh-shit,’ Rikki shouted, shrilly. Her eyes were wild as she watched the road ahead. The trip home seemed to be taking a lot less time than the trip there but that could be because of the fact that the pedal was nearly kissing the floor. “Y-you aren’t dying! Roland isn’t dying! Those girls aren't dying. No one is fucking dying except the Gromflomites that are fucking up my sh-shit!” 

Even as she spoke they turned into their neighborhood, nearly tipping the car over by the feel of things. Stan was fairly certain they’d ended up on two wheels that sent him careening into Rick. The skinny man grunted in pain as he slammed into the car door. They didn’t slow down, though. They didn’t even slow down when they started nearing Rikki’s house either. If anything she went faster and began to scream. Steering with one hand she snatched the gun off her lap and flicked off the safety. 

Gromflomites looked toward them in alarm, though quite a few didn’t managed to get out of Rikki’s way as she came bearing down on them in the Stanmobile. Several were crunched under the wheels of the car in a splatter of dark blue blood before the driver opened the door and rolled out of the car, firing at any of the insect like creatures that got too close. Lee came climbing out behind her and hurled a handful of purple, glowing prisms at a group of oncoming Gromflomites. When they shattered a purple mist dispersed for a five foot radius, making the aliens pause for a moment before starting to shriek like a swarm of cicadas and tear into each other with their pincers. 

Rick had discovered, through the years that things like this only lasted for a few minutes at best. When your blood was pumping and you were trying not to die while killing as many of the enemy as you could it took felt longer. The current battle playing out on Rikki’s street was no different. The bodies were piling up quick and it didn’t take long for him to decide it was safe enough to drag Stan out of the car and make a bee-line for the house. Many of the Gromflomites were starting to take off, calling for backup as they took cover behind cars parked out on the street. 

Rick was the first to hop over the fallen robot that had been initially sent to the door, pulling a stumbling Stan behind. Lee showed up not but a few moments later, Rikki shoving him out of her way as she came barreling in after. Mabel and Pacifica were huddled behind the bar in the kitchen, Roland’s screams giving away their position immediately. Rikki dashed into the kitchen, pulling the little boy out of Pacifica’s arms and hugging him tightly to her chest, not caring a bit as blue blood was smeared against his clothes. Rick stepped in beside her to grab the girls and haul them to their feet. 

“Time to leave girls,” he said, urging them toward the front door. “Quick before they come back with more of their buggy little fuckbuddies,” he barked, already pulling his portal gun from the inside of his lab coat. 

The girls wasted no time in letting themselves be herded out, neither did Stan. Behind them, Rikki paused, though. She had started to sob, her face pressed into Roland’s hair. He wailed into her chest. Lee was pacing near the door, watching as Rick and Stan bolted for their car with the girls. 

“I think we can make it to the car if we go now but we have to go now Rikki,” Stan heard him shout. Glancing over his shoulder he saw her shaking her head. 

He had just enough time to watch her shove Roland into Lee’s arms before they were out of sight of the door and Rick was shoving him none-to-gently into the passenger seat of Mabel’s car. The keys must have still been in the ignition because he pulled out of the driveway in seconds, already leaning out the window and setting up his shot with his portal gun. Stan twisted around to look out the back window, seeing Mabel and Pacifica doing the same. There were ships overhead now, Gromflomites dropping down out of them, jetpacks delivering them safely to terrafirma. Rikki was there to greet them with something that looked oddly like a bazooka. Knowing Ricks it was probably something far more interesting. He didn’t get a chance to see what it would do before they were all falling through one of Rick’s portals, though. 

It was the same as before, the sensation of falling with no sense of direction and then being righted again. Only this time they didn’t end up in an empty street. They crashed to the ground right in front of their shack in the woods. Rick slammed on the breaks, leaving them parked in front of the Shack with their headlights lighting up the woods head of them. For a moment everyone was silent and then Rick snarled and punched the steering wheel, making the horn let out a short, startling honk. 

“And th-that is why I left! Because I-I-I fucking loved y-you to much to let you get y-yourself killed with me,” Rick said, turning to glare at Stan who was staring at him sadly. 

“D..Do you think they’re okay,” Mabel asked meekly from the back of the car. 

“Who fucking knows,” Rick answered sharply, glaring over his shoulder. 

“I didn’t even get my clothes before we left,” she sighed, actually making Rick laugh. 

“I-I’ll make you some more,” he said with a chuckle before climbing out of the car. Before Stan leaned over to turn off the headlights he spotted Morty and Dipper standing at the edge of the woods. “Hey th-there boys. How was your week?” Then Stan managed to get the lights off and everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's that... the end... of this particular fic. 
> 
> I don't want to get yall's hopes up too much but I do have a lot of ideas for this series. I just don't know when I'll get around to actually posting more. I do plan to though! When I started all this I sort of just started tackling plots left and right and didn't really think about the failure that I was setting myself up for when I was posting EVERY DAY! What the fuck was I thinking??? 
> 
> Anyway I do plan on posting more in this series, just more slowly, especially since I plan on working on other fics in other fandoms. It just didn't feel right to start posting those before finishing this, though. So keep an eye out if you're fans of Stephen King's IT because that's what I'm going to be dabbling in next. I absolutely love the book and have been sitting on a few fic ideas since I finished reading it. I was honestly just waiting for the movie to drop before putting any out for anyone to read.


End file.
